The Observer

Another cycle paper! But this one took much longer than one hour; I really got into it. Most of it is based on my fourth grade experiences, but I also did a lot of reality-stretching, so don't take it too seriously. I just tried to take funny views on ordinary things. Please don't take offense to anything I say here. I didn't mean for anyone to get upset. And now, for our feature presentation, The Observer!

Introductions

The year was 2001. I was in fourth grade. This was the second time I’d moved to a different school, and the first time I’d moved to one so big. There was an ocean of people, so much to see, so different from the small puddle-like schools I’d gone to before. It was a new and potentially hostile environment. In order to survive, I trained myself to become the Observer.

There are two rules to being the Observer:
1) Never let those you observe know you are watching.
2) Avoid becoming involved at all costs.

Those being the only two rules, I didn’t necessarily have to be a super devious, all-seeing emissary. The primary goal was simply to figure out how my new environment worked without being interpreted as spying or involving myself in what I was Observing. But being ten years old, it was fun to think I was like that.

Beware, the Aliens Are Watching

There were only a handful of new students in my class. Everyone else who had their own groups had likely been together since kindergarten. The newcomers here were first new wave of aliens. I pretended I was a green alien with huge Observing eyes in a small, almost form-fitting space ship. The space ship was highly advanced, equipped with a cloaking device to render the ship and rider invisible. Unfortunately though, my ship was malfunctioning and the cloaking device only made the ship invisible. No matter though, it would not impede the primary mission.
I observed my class first, in broad, general strokes. I separated them into two tribes based on the sounds they made and they way they acted. The majority of them were raucous and energetic. They bounced around on the imaginary springs attached to their feet. Their voices were brassy and lively. I called them squawkers. The quiet ones fit the demure Asian girl type: small, nicely combed straight hair, cute girly clothes. Their voices were squeaky and rarely used. They were deemed squeakers.
I suppose if I were to try to join a tribe, it would be with the squeakers. The noise I would have to make to join the squawkers would not be good for my Observing duties. But with my alien features, I wasn’t so sure I would be readily accepted. I wasn’t short, my hair was in a frizzy ponytail that I hated brushing, and my clothes were more boyish than girly. Plus I had the superior mind capability to make my skin appear green to myself. Most people can’t appreciate that kind of talent.

The not-Hindu Maharishi say go forth with your destiny (but they’re really trying to kick you out)

Lunchtime: the first major convergence of the tribes. Everyone who takes from the lunch line gets the same food, so food isn’t the focus. It’s the territories. Each tribe has its own territory, although everyone is by the tables by the windows. Perhaps the others are considered taboo. Typically the separations of tribes are shown by the empty seats which serve as borders between two territories. Occasionally a tribe is so big that these spaces are compromised, usually in peace, but some express their annoyance in low tones-mostly squeakers when dealing with squawkers.
On the first day, I wanted to sit on the taboo tables alone in the comfort of my sleek malfunctioning space ship. I wanted to first view the tribes from a distance to look at the bigger picture and to avoid infringing the borders. Plus it would allow me to investigate the true nature of the tables and whether they were really forbidden or not. After a few days of research from a distance, I would, perhaps, join the tribes by the windows and Observe a little more closely.
So after I received my lunch, and determined it inedible to my alien digestive system, I retired to a taboo table to Observe. All was going well for a few minutes, until I was noticed by our leaders, the not-Hindu Maharishi.
They misinterpreted my solitude. They believed that I was lonely and shy, when I was really just trying to jumpstart my research from afar. But I could not object-that would be misunderstood further, and could hurt my Observing. And besides, I was planning to get closer to the tribal factions anyway. So I let them lead me to the tribal regions. Infringing the borders would no longer be a problem because any space the Maharishis granted you was sacred and permitted by all the groups.
After having settled I realized that the Maharishis’ kindness was really just a ploy to remove me from the taboo tables! Why didn’t I realize that before? Well, at least I knew the truth about the far tables now.

When people fall off trees, aren’t they supposed to hurt themselves? /Tribal Customs

Welcome to the playground, the savanna of the many tribes of squeakers and squawkers. This was the main place where groups visited and communed with relative tribes. It was an interesting place to observe because the behaviors of the tribes, especially the squeakers, changed dramatically. Squeakers became more squawk-like, only they were more methodical about it; building mini gardens with the surrounding nature: sticks, rocks, wood chips, and bougainvillea. Squawkers ran around in many random directions, or perhaps they were really making formations; my powers of Observation didn’t stretch that far.
One day, I decided to more closely examine the squeakers with their complex building habits. I sat next to the trio of large rocks, nearby the banyan tree. But someone climbing the banyan tree caught my eye.
It was a boy, squeaker or squawker, I couldn’t be sure. The banyan tree had something mystical about it that kept both tribes quiet. He was climbing across the side to get to dead man’s bridge. For some reason, the tribes name the hard places to climb to with the title “Dead Man’s” before it. No one had died there. It wasn’t owned by dead men. Curious.
The boy was making his way to Dead Man’s bridge pretty easily. He knew how to hang on and to make good footing. I would have to study how to climb the banyan tree more to figure out how he maneuvered. But then his foot slipped, and his hands grasped the air. As he was falling down, I thought a million questions: Would he die? Is that why they call it Dead Man’s Bridge? Would I need to break rule number two of Observing to save him? But he fell in a spin and landed on his two feet, in a low squat of course, but on his feet and unscathed. It was rather anti-climactic. No one else saw the miracle. I took note of it because feats like these really don’t happen that often.

There is No End for the Observer

After a few weeks of Observing in my space ship, I uncovered the ways of the new society, and could predict its trends. I learned how best to keep peace, and how to please the Maharishis. I could climb all parts of the banyan tree, and could create spectacular mini and water gardens like the squeakers. But knowing all of this did not satisfy me. I still did not have enough information. It was unfortunate, but Observing began to take a dull, ho-hum, run-of-the-mill trend.
I was sitting on the grassy hill, watching everything at a distance, when a squeaker began to approach my ship. It was my classroom buddy, though she was not a very good one so far, considering that I became an alien and she did not introduce me to the customs of the new environment. She began speaking to me in her small squeaker dialect.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to sit with me at lunch because I wasn’t really sure if I was supposed to….” She went on, apologizing here and there in an awkward manner. I don’t know why, maybe it was because of my trained Observing eyes or my alien inclination to trust, I believed her to be sincere. But what of my Observing? I would have to break all the rules in order to sit next to her. I would have to let people know I was observing them and I would have to be involved in what they were doing. It would change my way of Observing entirely. But on the other hand, it would feed my hunger for more information in a more exciting and unpredictable way.
So I consented. “Yeah, that would be great.” I tried to speak in the best squeaker accent that I could. I discreetly got out of my broken space ship, and joined my new tribe.